


Stages of Pursuit

by Firuflies, Llewcie, starkaryen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A little, Hanni is really frustrated, He might murder someone, Kissing, M/M, We might have gone over the word count, Will pretends not to remember, so much of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firuflies/pseuds/Firuflies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkaryen/pseuds/starkaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Will kisses Hannibal when he's drunk, he has plausible deniability, right?  Even when it happens more than once?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stages of Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> This collaborative monster is a family effort, written over many nights in the Cannibal Pub. It went over the word count because HOW DO YOU WRITE SIX KISSES IN UNDER 1K? *stares at guilty parties* Bless my family of enablers at Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive. What would I do without you? 
> 
> Don't answer that.

**_Curiosity_ **

Hannibal was flipping the delicate crepes with the ease of having done it a thousand times before. He was making something simple-- crepes with chicken and asparagus, and knew it showed his forearms to their best advantage. Will stared at his forearms when the sleeves are rolled up, and Hannibal wasn’t sure what that meant but he wanted to encourage it, whatever it was. Behind him, he heard the clink of a bottle against his marble countertop. He had been encouraging Will to learn to sample wine properly, and he thought that in the kitchen, inundated with the savory smells of wild mushrooms heating in clarified butter and sweet cream, Will’s nose would more accurately be able to choose the proper wine.

Hannibal was actually favoring the 2009 Villa Bucci Riserva Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi, but he thought Will’s simpler tastes might fall to the 2012 Domaine Anderson Chardonnay. Either would be acceptable-- Hannibal had no wine in his home that would not be acceptable. Another clink of glass on marble sounded behind him. The lighter tink of a glass. Another clink.

Another.

He was just about to turn around in dismay and chide Will for drinking their dinner when he felt the press of warm, soft curls against the back of his neck. His stirring hand stuttered and several onion slivers and a mushroom went flying and smacked wetly against the splashguard. A hand pressed against his belly, urging him to turn, and then a hot mouth was on his, luxurious and sweet and open. Will’s tongue tasted of chardonnay-- even through his shock Hannibal could identify the wine. Before he could press his hands against Will’s back and trap him against his body, their mouths parted with a sweet suck, and Will stepped back. He didn’t even look up, but gave a wry smile at the floor, his hand scratching through his curls, and then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Hannibal in a stunned silence.

He licked his lips, the flavor of Will pressed into his mouth. “Chardonnay, then.”

 

**_Cruelty_ **

They spent the entire evening on the couch, fire crackling in hearth, as Hannibal read aloud from _Dorian Gray_ with his soft, measured voice, his accent softened by wine until his tongue licked over the fricatives, rounding them to breath and accompanying vowel. At some point, Will lay his head back and let the sound of Hannibal’s voice lull him into a gentle state of arousal-- not fully awake but electrically aware of Hannibal so close to him, Will’s shin pressed to Hannibal’s thigh as he was draped over the arm of the couch. At some point in the evening, after the second glass of whiskey maybe, Hannibal’s fingers had begun to stroke over Will’s bare ankle.

They weren’t intimate. Well, not sexually so, even after everything. Even after they set up house away from civilization, even after nearly dying. And Will wasn’t counting that kiss in the kitchen, because. Just, because. Because Hannibal hadn’t done anything about it, he told himself. Because Hannibal was the mover of things. Because Hannibal.

But now Hannibal was dragging a thumb over the top of Will’s foot, and Will wanted those deft fingers on more of him. He was touch-starved, he told himself. He _wanted_ in a heady, disassociated way, and even as he got his knees under him and stretched his body out against Hannibal’s, he knew that this was cruelty. Hannibal turned to him, eyes hooded and dark, and set the book aside. Will didn’t even recognise his own intent until his mouth was on Hannibal’s, pressing in, slightly overbalanced until Hannibal’s strong hands pressed over his hips and hauled him close.

Will nosed and licked at his not-lover’s mouth, and Hannibal was betrayed by the flexing of his fingers on Will’s hips. His breath shallowed against Will’s lips just as Will drew back. He flushed with sudden shyness, wondering where his boldness had come from. He wondered if he should get up and walk away, but Hannibal’s hands were still on his hips, so he settled against Hannibal’s broad, warm chest instead.

He fell asleep to a steady heartbeat, slightly quickened by his own nearness. When he woke, later in the night, Hannibal was still under him, but Will couldn’t bring himself to rouse them to their separate beds. He fell asleep and didn’t dream.

 

**_Fear_ **

Hannibal got home late. Very late. Will was deep into the bottle of excellent whiskey by the time he returned home, and could only blearily stare as Hannibal shucked off his topcoat to reveal a ruined and bloody suitcoat beneath. Hannibal looked focused and ready for a fight, which Will had been preparing all night to give him.

“I thought we talked about this,” was his opening sortie. Brisk. Accusatory. Passive aggressive as all hell.

“I was recognized. She knew my name, my face,” replied Hannibal, terse, standing in the door in his ruined clothing. It was the light cream suit with the teal vest, and he had looked impossibly handsome this morning in it. Now it would have to be burned, like so many before it. Will managed to find his feet, and stalked towards his… what. His partner. His murder bestie? The man who was going to kill someone in public one too many times and Will would lose him then, no matter what happened next. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Nor would I, Will.” Hannibal’s expression softened, the wariness easing from the corners of his amber eyes, and Will realized he had been speaking out loud. He swayed in front of Hannibal, breathing in the blood sweat tang of him.

“You can’t… you can’t…” But Will didn’t know how to finish, because nothing he might say would protect Hannibal. Nothing short of locking the man up entirely, and that would kill him as sure as an INTERPOL bullet, or a lifetime maximum security jail sentence.

Hannibal threaded a large, bloodstained hand through the curls that draped Will’s forehead. “We will be safe, Will.”

Will shook his head. “You can’t promise me that, Hannibal.” Without another thought in his head, he took Hannibal’s face in his hands and kissed him, hard, biting at his bottom lip as if he could take Hannibal into himself and protect him that way. “You can’t promise me anything,” he whispered, anguished, against Hannibal’s open mouth. Hannibal was as still as stone beneath his mouth, his hands at his sides. Will stepped back, abashed and miserable, but Hannibal caught his hip before he could draw too far away.

“We will be as safe as the both of us can possibly be.” Hannibal drew closer to him, nosing along his sweat-damp curls. “We will deal with every situation as it comes. We are mobile, and independently wealthy…” As this, Will snorted, smiling a little into Hannibal’s cheek. “We are stronger together,” Hannibal murmured into his skin. “Not even divine intervention will separate us now.” His lips pressed lightly against Will’s, undemanding and gentle. Will tilted his chin up into the kiss, and they stood for a moment, just pressed together like that, before Will dropped his chin.

“Ok. Ok.” He nodded, and stepped back,, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I, um…” He smiled awkwardly. “There’s dinner in the fridge if you want it.”

 

**_Frustration_ **

The knife went down with too much force, hitting the cutting board with a loud but muffled sound. Hannibal pursed his lips as he moved away the piece of pepper that he wouldn’t use. He knew very well that the vegetable wasn’t the source of his annoyance, and still he narrowed his eyes when he saw the irregular cut he had made in it. When he heard the familiar steps behind him, he tensed and sighed.

“Are you going to sulk all day?”

“Are you going to keep drinking all the wine before dinner?” Hannibal asked in turn, not even close to asking what he really wanted to ask.

He heard the clink of the glass being left on counter only a second before feeling Will’s hands on his hips spinning him around. Hannibal dropped the knife with a clank and faced a slightly drunk and impossibly close Will. Hannibal felt Will’s thighs brushing his as he pushed him against the kitchen island, and he swallowed.

“Stop,” Will said, the word rolling in his tongue.

“It’s not I who needs to stop,” Hannibal said, but his tone had now lost all its strength.

Will’s gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips, and Hannibal parted them to let out a silent gasp as he fought the need to buck his hips forward, to feel the warmth of Will’s body completely against him.

Hannibal wanted to ask him so many things; he wanted his mouth to form words and demand Will to explain himself. To explain the stolen kisses, to explain why he never mentioned them in broad daylight when the effect of the alcohol had faded… But Hannibal couldn’t say a single word as Will leaned in and pressed nose and lips against him, just the contact at first, until he tilted his head and parted Hannibal’s lips with his own in a kiss. Hannibal let out a soft sound as his hands trembled and gripped Will’s shirt, restraining himself not to wrap them around his back to pull him closer, to bury his face in his neck and inhale his scent. He felt Will’s hips meeting his and applying the perfect pressure, and that time Hannibal moaned. Will pulled back as if the sound had startled him. He licked his lips as his eyes averted from Hannibal’s, and cleared his throat.

“I’ll… set the table.”

Hannibal nodded, not able to find any of his irritation as Will moved back and his hands fell from the other’s shirt, hanging by his sides.

 

**_Corner_ **

Hannibal was avoiding Will. When he entered a room he would be greeted with the warm amber scent of Hannibal but not the man. When he managed to find him in a room with only one door, Hannibal would politely excuse himself immediately upon catching sight of Will. And the trouble is, Will knew why. He knew exactly why. Hannibal was reaping the agony of Will’s indecision, and if he were anyone else, Will knew he would be in the freezer by now, or being made into soup.

But Will was not anyone else. And he had made his choice. Now all he had to do was catch his cannibal, and if necessary, sit on him until he could convince Hannibal that he had made his choice.

His opportunity didn’t come until very late in the day, after a frustrating lunch of a plain bacon and egg sandwich left on a plate for him, and a long afternoon of anticipating Hannibal’s whereabouts in their small house, only to realize finally that Hannibal had been sketching all day. On the roof. With a bottle of brandy.

So it was with great trepidation that Will climbed out of Hannibal’s bedroom window, feeling like he was stalking the wounded fox, and wondering what would happen when he cornered it. Hannibal eyed him warily from his perch on top of the dormer, his back up against the high slope of the peaked roof. He was in soft cotton sleep pants and a t-shirt, feet bare. Will crawled up the slope of the roof to seat himself with a leg on either side of the dormer. Their knees touched, but Hannibal wouldn’t meet his eyes. The bottle was more than half empty.

Finally, Hannibal mumbled, “You might have the courtesy to allow me to avoid you.”

Will nodded. “I deserve that.”

Hannibal squinted at him, an unusual vulnerability on his face. Will had no recollection of seeing Hannibal drunk before, and he immediately ached to see it, knowing he was the reason. Hannibal sniffed, an echo of dignity, and turned his head away. “I don’t want to see you right now, Will. Please go away.”

“Hannibal, I..” Will frowned. “I’m sorry for all of this. I’m sorry I have frustrated you.” He laughed ruefully. “And myself. But I’m here to tell you that I’m not running away from this anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I want you.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “If you want me,” he added, his voice smaller. And then he bowed his head, leaning dangerously over the side of the dormer, and kissed Hannibal’s foot. He kissed the graceful arch, and licked up to the prominent tendon that extended from his anklebone. His teeth closed gently over Hannibal’s ankle, and heard a tiny, startled inhale above him. Without looking up, he asked, softly, “Do you want me, Hannibal?”

It was a long time before Hannibal moved, and that was only to drink from his bottle. Will’s heart sank, but he nodded. “I guess I deserve that too.”

 

**_Capture_ **

It was late; it was the kind of late that bled over into early, but Will hadn’t touched a drop of his whiskey. He way lying in Hannibal’s bed, waiting for Hannibal to sober up and come inside. He was there to make sure Hannibal was ok-- that was all. To make sure he was safe. The rejection stung, seeped into his bones until he was too heavy to move, and too miserable to sleep. So he waited, because he didn’t know what else to do.

Eventually, the sounds of climbing reached his ears, and he crawled off the bed to the window, to assist as he was welcome. A bare foot slid down to the sill-- was this the one he had kissed? With a graceful leap, Hannibal slid through the window and into the room, right against Will, who had been standing close. Will’s hands gripped hard around Hannibal’s hips, to balance them both, intending to back off once they were steady. But Hannibal took him by the shoulders, thumbs rucking up into his disheveled hair, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Do you still?” he rumbled out, voice rough from drink. His hands tightened on the back of Will’s neck, and Will arched into him.

“I always have,” he admitted softly. “I was just too scared to admit it. Hannibal, I’m sorry--”

“Shut up, Will,” and Hannibal was kissing him, kissing him and bending him backwards until Will’s body was arched hard enough to ache deep in his hips. Will sank into the heat and the wet of it as Hannibal licked into his mouth, holding Will helpless against him. And then Hannibal was easing him down on the bed, never breaking the kiss as he pressed Will’s body into the eiderdown.

Will clutched at Hannibal’s broad shoulders, gasping out a breath when they broke apart. “Does this… “ he panted. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

Hannibal smiled, bright ivory fangs glinting in the dark, and licked under Will’s chin to his throat. He bit down, less than gentle, and Will writhed beneath him, animal instinct pulling his body one way as his desire pushed it another. “Forgive?” Hannibal licked his throat again, his tongue pushing against the carotid artery until Will could feel his heartbeat pounding in his temples. A soft laugh. “No.”

“I am willing to pay, if that's the case…” Will dared to say. His bravery was awarded with a few more kisses along his neck and a long sigh, followed by a sudden change of pace as Hannibal sank his face into the space between his shoulder and his neck. It suddenly felt very weird, having Hannibal so quiet for longer than 1 minute, his breath so calm and even… And that's when Will discovered he really was paying for his crimes, by serving as an improvised bed for a man who clearly didn't know how to drink.

When Hannibal woke up, he groaned as he rolled over in the bed. He tried to swallow, but his mouth felt like he had eaten a spoonful of flour without any water. He stood up and staggered towards the bathroom, where he washed his face and brushed his teeth. And then, right when he was looking at his reflection in the mirror, he remembered the night before. He took a step backwards to look at the bed, as if Will were going to magically appear there just because he had remembered. But Will was obviously not there, and the last thing he recalled was- Hannibal pursed his lips and cursed quietly. He had actually fallen asleep on top of Will. After having kissed him. After Will had told him he actually wanted him…

He went out of the room to look for him, peeking inside every room of the hallway in case Will would be there. It wasn’t until he was closer, that he heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He came into the room very slowly, and he froze when he saw Will placing two glasses of orange juice in a tray, next to a couple of mugs with steaming coffee, a plate with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast.

Will turned around a little startled at finding Hannibal there, and he cleared his throat.

“Oh! I was going to bring you breakfast to bed. To… uhm… apologize.”

Hannibal finally approached him without looking away from Will, who was standing awkwardly next to the kitchen island. When Hannibal stopped right before him, Will took the tray with both hands and raised it as if it was an offering.

“Truce?” Will asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hannibal took the tray from his hands and set it down carefully on the counter again. And then, he leaned in and wrapped both arms around Will’s back as he pulled him closer. Will gasped softly, his minty breath hitting Hannibal’s mouth, and he smiled as he looked from Will’s eyes down to his lips.

“You are not going to push me away again, are you?”

Will chuckled nervously, but he shook his head. “No… You’re not going to fall asleep on top of me, are you?”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes as if he had taken offence in Will’s comment, but his lips stretched in a smile on their own.

“No, I’m not…”

Hannibal finally leaned forwards and kissed him as Will wrapped his arms around his shoulders to press their bodies closer still. Hannibal groaned happily before parting his lips when Will’s tongue pressed against them, and he heard Will moan as he sucked on his lower lip. Hannibal thought he could die in that moment, with Will pliant in his arms, the man holding him tightly as if Hannibal might disappear. When they pulled away to breathe, Will swallowed and licked his own lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“The food… it’s going to get cold,” he said, but he didn’t loosen his hold around Hannibal’s shoulders.

Hannibal grinned and pressed his forehead against Will’s, nuzzling against the other’s nose.

“What a terrible thing.”

 

**_Bonus Kiss_ **

It was late enough that the taxi taking them home encountered no traffic. Will snuggled into Hannibal’s neck, murmuring adoration into his skin loud enough to draw curious looks from the driver. Hannibal kissed his hair gently, stroking curls away from his ears.

Getting Will inside was no mean feat, and Hannibal thought a half dozen times that it would be simpler to carry him, before finally giving up and doing just that, sweeping Will into his arms and carrying him up the staircase. Will clung to him, kissing his ear and trying to swivel so that his legs were clasped around Hannibal’s hips. Hannibal’s back complained as he hefted his lover up the last few stairs and staggered down the hall.

Hannibal’s back gave out just as he tipped Will onto their bed, Will dragging him down so that they sprawled together in a pile of well-cut wool and whiskey fumes. Will pulled Hannibal’s face to his mouth and kissed him, tongue cutting a wet swath across his cheek. He struggled briefly with his jacket and then gave up, settling for licking Hannibal’s ear.

“I love you. I love you, Hannibal. I love you,” he murmured, punctuating each declaration with a sloppy whiskey-tinged kiss. Hannibal froze above him, stunned.

“Will, you are not yourself…” he began, but Will pressed a finger against his lips to still him, smiling goofily.

“I am never more myself… than I am…” He struggled to remember the rest. Hannibal took pity on him.

“Than I am when I am with you.” He gave Will a gentle smile. Will nodded, and kissed him again, lips pressed against lips.

“I love you, Hannibal.”

“And I you, Will.” Hannibal was curiously reluctant to admit the whole of it when Will was inebriated out of his mind. But he smiled softly at Will beneath him, and began to undress him for bed.

Tomorrow they would discuss it, without the alcohol or either of their fears in the way.


End file.
